


Chance Meeting

by Miutinichisheno



Series: The Lost Files [2]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Mentions of alcoholism, Post-Resi 6, Self-Indulgent, pity pangs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 14:14:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7511483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miutinichisheno/pseuds/Miutinichisheno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leon is sent on a lone mission, low risk level to an abandoned Umbrella facility. It's completely abandoned, or so it seems at first though it does hold a surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chance Meeting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ZyrenSong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZyrenSong/gifts).



> This is mostly completely self-indulgent because the dynamic of these two was never explored in the games, which is a shame because I can imagine the back and forth snarking would be beautiful.  
> Edit: Set within the same verse as The Lost Mission

He'd never met the man, only ever heard the countless horror stories that had accumulated and almost raised him to a creature of pure legend rather than a human riddled with viruses and any other sort of experimentation Umbrella had deigned to put him through. Leon was faced with two options. Call it in, or not. He didn't know what he'd do if he actually called it in, and yet in the past when his hands would have scrambled for the radio to message Hunnigan – he didn't.

He died in a volcano. Apparently. Obviously not. It felt like everything had frozen in time around him, trapped in the red-eyed gaze of the man sat so casually at this table. Like this wasn't the most surreal thing he'd ever happened to have experience. Forget sacks of flesh that jittered and healed no matter what you did to them, forget the hallucinations whilst he was infected and a crocodile in the sewers of Raccoon City the size of a fucking Kaiju – this. _This_ was the most surreal thing he'd experienced. How did this happen? There hadn't been any signs of life, this was supposed to be a simple sweep up and dispose of an unused Umbrella facility.

 

“Stop gawping and close the door, you're letting all the warm air out.” Despite the gun half pointed in his direction – if he fired it, it'd be more likely to shoot the man in the foot – Wesker didn't look bothered by his presence at all.  
“Albert Wesker, you're under arrest.” Leon tried to keep his tone firm, really he did. But it was hard to maintain an air of control when your target was a dead man.  
“Am I?” His brows rose, finally looking away from the agent. He simply placed the plain looking mug down and returned his attention to a book he was reading.  
“-You're supposed to be dead.” He gave up pretences, instead giving into the exasperated tone that was more fitting for the situation.  
“An illusion I do fully intend to maintain.”  
“Good luck with that, I was sent here to decommission the facility. You've been discovered, the illusion is broken.” As he finished his sentence he realised that perhaps he was under-armed for the given situation. If he was to take in Wesker he'd need much more firepower in his arsenal. Although he didn't know just how healthy the man was after the incident in the volcano, he also didn't look like he was prepared to humour him in the slightest.  
“Discovered by who? You?” Wesker gave a pointed glance before returning his attention to the book. “Close the door Kennedy. I won't ask again.”  
“You don't give me orders.” Leon stubbornly held his ground and held his gun up once more.

The tension was palpable. He could feel his chest pounding as he heard the low agitated growl that lead to the thud of the book being set down on the make-shirt coffee table. His head was swimming and felt dizzy. Something so simple as this was getting to him. He'd faced Tyrants with nothing but a damn knife and yet the slow approach of Wesker had his forehead prickling with a cold sweat.  
Quickly his eyes scanned the room, trying to find something, _anything_ that he could use against Wesker. It must have been a converted break room. Everything was disturbingly pristine, white walls, white furniture accented with cold steel. Wesker stuck out. His gold hair, red eyes and all black clothing made him impossible to ignore. What was he even reading? Files? No, it was old and tattered. One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest?  
When faced with the prospect of death by a pronounced deceased Albert Wesker, of course, the thing that threw him was his choice in literature.

Wesker was almost upon him before he had a chance to act, instead he stood there, frozen still in place. His hands weren't shaking, thankfully, he could retain some dignity, even if this was going to be how he went.

 

The door closed.

Leon blinked and watched Wesker walk past him after pulling the door shut and sat himself back down on the sofa. It was as if nothing had happened. Wesker could have had the chance to rhino punch him, snap his neck, anything. So why didn't he?  
“What's the matter with you?” Leon exhaled, the gun lowering once more.  
“I'm sure I could fire off a comprehensive list-”  
“What have you got planned? Why didn't you attack me? I'm threatening to take you in. Arrest you.” His hands splayed, wildly gesturing to emphasise his position. Wesker however, didn't look concerned at all. He simply picked his book up once more and settled back against the sofa.  
“The key word there is threatening.” His tone was so nonchalant, Leon wanted to grab him by the shoulders and scream. Perhaps he'd been at this for too long and he'd finally snapped. It was strange though, the fever dream he expected to kill him would have been in the form of Krauser, Saddler or Simmons, not Wesker abjectly ignoring him. “You wouldn't know the first thing to do with me even if you did manage to convince me to turn myself in.”  
“Restraints for one.”  
“Do you have access to sufficient ones at present?”  
“I'd manage.”  
“Of course you would, Dear Heart.” Leon's tongue ran over his upper teeth in annoyance at the patronising tone. “The fact of the matter is you are unprepared. If you came back better prepared then could you guarantee I would be here still? Then comes the matter of whether anyone would believe you. I see that hip flask. Rogue, drunk agent. People will definitely take you seriously with no evidence.”  
“Don't you start.”  
“How do you know that I'm even here at all?”  
“I'm not as delicate as you seem to think I am.”  
“I would say we're at a stalemate but that would imply that I believed we were on equal footing.” Wesker turned the page of his book. “There is a kettle over there, there's food in the fridge. Take your fill and be on your way.”  
“And you're just going to keep acting like this is the most normal thing?” Despite Leon's tone the gun was firmly placed back into its holster, his shoulders less tense and squared.  
“You're inconsequential, Kennedy, I am no threat.”  
“Your history says otherwise.”  
“And yet, I could have snapped your neck but I closed the door instead. I am not interested.”

 

The silence fell. Perhaps if he'd had Chris with him, this would have been far uglier rather than insulting. This wasn't what he was expecting. To Claire, Chris, Jill and Sheva he was the worst of the worst. A monster parading in human skin like some sick joke. Maybe those rockets to the head did more damage than he'd have initially thought. He vaguely recalled the premise of One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest the themes of institutionalised oppression and subtle micro-aggressions towards the mentally ill. Perhaps it was part of the fucked up aspect of this delusion- if it even was one. Leon shook his head. No, this was happening. In dreams things almost felt real, but if he thought too much about them then he'd wake himself up. Hunnigan, had once told him it was probably because he was trying to analyse and as such waking up the part of his brain capable of processing critical thought and logic.  
All the while he partially refused to accept this as his reality, he still found himself drawn to the fridge and grabbing some supplies from it, casually biting into and apple.  
“I can't just leave this facility in one piece. My mission is to make sure this place is destroyed.” Wesker didn't seem to react at first, processing the information he'd been given. The book was lowered and his head tilted to glance back at the agent. “It'll only gather more questions. If you want to stay out of the spotlight I'm gonna have to evict you.”  
“A shame. There aren't many facilities left these days.”  
“I'm sure you're a resourceful enough man to find something else. You've stayed off the radar this long.” Leon gave a shrug, taking another bite. Really he shouldn't have trusted the fruit, he shouldn't have trusted anything here. Had this happened before? Had people encountered Wesker and kept it to themselves? He should be rushing to hand him over, but there was something about him which kept him from being able to. Under-equipped he may have been, but the resignation about the man made his chest constrict. He only knew because he'd been there before too.

It was so easy to see himself sat in Wesker's place. Instead of a book and a hot drink it'd be him staring into nothing whilst he slowly worked his way down a bottle. It was common in their line of work, the therapist Hunnigan had assigned him when he'd returned from Pueblo said. There was something about it all that left you feeling like you'd been chewed up and spat out. Day in day out it was always the same. Knowing that because of Umbrella all over the world people were suffering because of these viruses and parasites. He'd sworn he'd eradicate all trace of the virus from the world, but to think how it must have felt being on the other side of it. Being left for dead by the company that 'raised you'. He'd been groomed, there was no doubt about it. Had he believed that these things could benefit people? Had he ever been that naïve once too? Was this their fate? Weariness, the fight long gone from their eyes.  
Leon grimaced as he set the apple core down on the counter, he couldn't afford to start to empathising with 'villains'. Although that had been what had put him in the situation he'd been in in the Eastern Slav. He'd discovered the plot of the President and helped the Rebels. Nothing was ever as simple as Chris seemed to believe it was. But that was what his coping method was right? Dehumanise those who stood on the other side to him, write them off as just 'the enemy' and not people who had their own reasonings. This was dangerous territory. As much as the new President only seemed to tolerate him, he couldn't lay a finger on him. Everything he did in defiance left him coming out the other side smelling of roses.

 

“I'll give you an hour. Pack your things and then we have to go.”  
“Kennedy, you couldn't arrest me even if you wanted to-”  
“I'm not. But I can't leave this place standing, you know that. Finish your chapter, gather your things, whatever you need to do but after that, we're gone. They're going to expect me to radio in soon.”  
Wesker closed the book and got to his feet. His movements were almost cautious, trying to read the younger agent. His eyes narrowed, scanning the man over and over. Perhaps he was wondering if he had a hidden microphone attached to him, maybe a camera just in case the favourite lapdog of the President went missing. Although if that were the case then perhaps he'd have been more confident.  
“You're going to let me leave, just like that?” Leon couldn't help but smirk at the sudden flip he'd unwittingly managed to pull on the man. Wesker's nose creased into a half snarl at the expression he was making.  
“You're keeping to yourself aren't you?” He shrugged. “Besides, I know the look of a man distancing himself from humanity and the world. It's easy to turn your back and want to never come back. I suppose being 'dead'” He used finger quote marks, “makes it all easier on your part. How long has it been since then..?” Leon paused and Wesker could just see the cogs turning. “Nearly five years and not a peep from you. What shocked me was your reputation, I didn't look at the husk of a man I was actually faced with. A man more concerned with keeping the hot air in a room and his book isn't a man that's got any grand plans of being a god.”

“Perhaps I underestimated you all those years ago, Kennedy.”  
“Always helps to take advantage of the dumb blonde trope.” Leon shrugged. “Either way, if you _do_ something then I'll know. I'll hunt you down and maybe I'll let Chris have another go.”  
“It almost sounds like you believe this threat.”  
“Cause I don't think you will. But, you know, disclaimer.”  
“How considerate of you.”

“I'm just watching my own back.” Leon turned his back to Wesker and began rummaging through the cupboards, searching for more supplies. Although it was probably more to avoid having to look at Wesker's face of disbelief.

 

It hadn't taken long for Wesker to gather his things. The man was essentially living out of a backpack, how he had the funds was beyond him, but probably so was Umbrella's pay-cheque size. It wasn't his place to dig, he'd probably done enough just by firing off about how Wesker wasn't the man he used to be. To be honest he'd been expecting something to be thrown at him in the least or a scathing retort. So much for being a boy scout.  
He'd placed the final charges around the facility and the two made their way above ground. It was bitterly cold and Leon had to wonder if Wesker could even feel it. It was a shame to have to destroy the base, given the cover was an old converted temple.  
“Why Tibet?”  
“Isolated. Quiet. There's a calmness.” Wesker replied a little quickly, perhaps not entirely comfortable with what to do from then.  
“Suppose there's worse places. I'd have probably picked somewhere a little warmer.” Wesker hummed lowly in response, again with the non-committal tone. “Look, I know there's the temptation to find an abandoned facility to stay holed up in, but the DSO and BSAA are cracking down on these locations.”  
“Why are you helping me?” Wesker's brow rose.  
“I'm not really sure I'm helping you. I turfed you out of your home after all.” Leon flicked his tongue over his lips trying to keep the cold from biting. “Maybe I can appreciate that things need to be quieter? Maybe I'm fucking tired of the same old shit coming up time and time again? Whatever it is, I'm telling you to keep your head down and to not do anything stupid.”  
“You're a strange man.”  
“Pot, meet kettle.” He shrugged and made his way further away from the facility. “At least I never thought I was a God.”

 

The explosion took out part of the cliff face, any remnants of the building were crushed by the rocks and boulders, interrupting any option for Wesker to respond as the echoes drowned out his voice. Once it as quiet Leon was already stood a good way away, his finger to his ear probably calling in his pick-up and to say mission complete. Wesker squinted, trying to read his lips. At any point, he could have gone back on his word and told the DSO that he'd found him in the facility and yet there he was acting as though nothing had happened.  
Perhaps things could remain quiet.

 

 

  
  


 

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my fiance [Zyrensong](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ZyrenSong/pseuds/ZyrenSong) I hope you enjoy it <3


End file.
